by Lynda Aicher
“Good.”
The warmth of the interior rushed around him and he let out a sigh as his ears started to thaw. “Do you live far from here?”
Rock stalled for a second, just long enough for Carter to think he’d broached a topic he shouldn’t have. “About five minutes away. You?”
“Closer to fifteen,” he answered, the doubt fading away. “Mostly from traffic, not distance.”
Rock wasn’t a client. Period. If he didn’t stop checking his every word like he did with a john, then nothing would ever develop between them. Even friendship.
“I got it,” Carter said, stepping in front of Rock when they got to the ticket window. He bought two tickets to the action flick and turned to hand one to Rock. The man tucked his head, his ears growing red. Carter had to swallow his chuckle. “Here. You can buy the popcorn.”
Rock snatched the ticket and turned away, mumbling something Carter didn’t catch. This time he let his laugh roll out. He followed Rock to the concessions area and bumped his arm when he stopped beside him. Rock flinched then shot him an apologetic frown before he stared up at the concession menu.
His awareness of the other man was dialed into overdrive. His skin seemed to prickle, his arm hairs dancing in an attempt to get closer to what he wanted to touch. He stepped back though, giving Rock the space he needed. He had to remember Rock had only admitted he was gay a week ago. It’d be a while before he could own it, if ever.
He waited until they were sitting near the back of the theater with a giant tub of popcorn and two bottles of water before he dared to lean over and say, “Relax. Guy friends go to the movies together all the time.”
Rock cleared his throat. “I know.” He shifted in his chair. “But I know we’re not just friends. Just like the hockey game, I can’t stop thinking everyone else does too.”
“So we’re more than friends,” Carter teased. He shouldn’t, but it was too much fun watching that color rise up the back of Rock’s neck in a crawl that had him wishing he could touch the red skin to see if it was as hot as it looked.
“Damn. I don’t know.” Rock stuffed some popcorn in his mouth, his eyes glued to the ad playing on the screen. He swallowed. “I thought we were working that way.”
They were sitting in the next-to-last row, and there were only three other couples in the stadium-style seats below. It wasn’t like Carter was worried about what others would think, but Rock was.
He went for a repeated move and pressed his leg against Rock’s jittering one. Rock froze, a handful of popcorn lifted halfway to his mouth. Slowly, Carter felt the slide of material as Rock lowered his heel to the floor and returned the pressure. There.
“I was kidding, Rock.” He studied him, his profile cut with angles that defined the man. He couldn’t see the scar from this side and he realized he didn’t really see it anymore anyway.
“Oh.” Rock looked so uncomfortable. It was worse than their first dinner date.
“What’s wrong?”
He shrugged. “You should know by now.”
“You’re not regretting this, are you?” Carter forced a joking tone into his voice. One he didn’t feel.
“No.” Rock snapped his head around, eyes wide. “Are you?”
“Joking,” Carter singsonged with a smile. He reached into the popcorn tub more as an excuse to get closer to Rock than because he was hungry. “Lighten up. No expectations, remember? I won’t bite…unless you want me to.”
Rock grabbed his hand, halting his exit from the popcorn, those long fingers gentle where they gripped him. Carter’s eyes snapped up to Rock’s and the slow burn of arousal that he’d been trying to bank since he’d watched the man stroll across the parking lot flashed to an inferno.
“Will you later?”
“Definitely,” he murmured, his voice husky, pulse increasing at Rock’s flirting. “Anywhere you want.”
The tip of Rock’s tongue did that sneak peak out to pull his lower lip back in. His gaze went to Carter’s mouth. “Good.”
The desire to lean that last remaining distance and seal the deal with a kiss was so strong he actually tilted that way before he caught himself. Rock focused back on Carter’s eyes, the longing so blatant Carter groaned.
“You sure you want to see this movie?” It was another joke, but he wouldn’t have objected if Rock had pulled him from the theater, action movie forgotten.
The rumble of Rock’s laugh rolled right down Carter’s spine. “Yeah. Because there’s nothing more romantic than watching men kill each other.”
Carter raised a brow. “Romantic, huh?”
“Any chance you’re going to jump into my arms during a scary part?”
“Ha! You wish.”
Rock stroked his thumb over Carter’s hand, which he still clutched. “I do, actually.”
The lights dimmed and the welcome montage blared through the theater, saving Carter from responding. Rock released his hold, allowing Carter to finally retrieve the popcorn he’d gone after.
He leaned on the armrest and smiled when Rock did the same so their shoulders touched. Little steps. Small touches. It was nice. Sweet. A dance so different from what Carter was used to that the melody wrapped around his heart and plucked at the wish he’d denied himself for years.
Part of him wanted the movie to end right now. And the other part of him settled in to enjoy the slow build that came with waiting. Sitting next to Rock, absorbing his warmth, inhaling his scent, finding ways to touch him that let his fingers skim over his hand or thigh or arm. Yeah, that was nice.
It was even better when Rock found his hand and wove their fingers together. It was dark. No one could see them. No one cared but them. The slow flip and flutter that turned in his stomach was the reaction of a teenager, not a grown man. But it still happened.
He watched the movie, a smile plastered to his face the whole time. There was blood, killing, gunfights and a female to save. And that was all he could remember about the movie because he spent the rest of the time remembering the moment.
Chapter Thirteen
It was corny, Rock knew, but he swore his palm still tingled from where he’d held Carter’s hand through half the movie. He hoped Carter didn’t want to talk about the movie because he had no clue what it was about. But he could describe the subtle hints of Carter’s cologne and the smooth texture of the back of his hand.
They’d exited the theater without saying much. A few words on how good the movie was and if they liked it, which they both mumbled through. The conversation had stalled after that. The biggest topic blocking Rock’s brain was “what’s next?”
“I’m parked over there.” Carter pointed to the right.
Rock kept his hands buried in his coat pockets, not because of the cold, but because he really wanted to hold Carter’s hand again. His pulse was going too fast, and the longer he thought about what he wanted to ask, the faster it went. “Do you want to come over?”
“To your place?”
The look of surprise on Carter’s face had Rock backtracking. “Or we could stop for coffee somewhere.”
Carter’s smile appeared easy and relaxed, which was the exact opposite of the tight twist of knots that bound Rock’s muscles. “Does your place have coffee?”
“Yeah. And homemade cookies.”
“Did you make them?”
There wasn’t a hint of mockery in Carter’s tone and that was probably the only reason Rock answered honestly. “Yeah. This afternoon. Chocolate chip.”
“Then show me the way home,” Carter said with a laugh. “It’s been forever since I’ve had fresh homemade cookies.”
“You don’t bake?”
“Not even a little. I don’t buy cookies or sweets either.” He pulled out his phone and swiped it on. “What’s your address?”
Rock gave it to him and added some brief directions, while Carter waited for the navigation app to pull it up.
“I got it.” Carter looked up. “I’ll meet you there. Is there an
y place to park?”
“There’re visitor spots out front.”
The short drive home was just long enough to both settle and wind up his nerves. He’d spent a good portion of the afternoon making sure his place was spotless on the chance Carter would come over, but then, it never got that messy. Habits bred into him from the time he could pick up a dust rag didn’t fade away because he lived on his own. White inspection gloves were not a military myth created for movies.
He parked his truck in his underground garage spot then hurried up to the front doors to let Carter in. He was already walking across the small parking lot when Rock got there. The low outside light lit his face, and Rock sucked in a nervous breath. The man was a class above him. Carter had the bearing, mannerisms and looks of a man meant for someone better than an ex-military brat. He could probably get any man he wanted.
Rock pushed the door open, a cold gust of air rushing in before he stepped back to let his date through. Yeah, Carter was his date. For tonight, at least. “I’m on the sixth floor,” he said as they headed toward the elevator.
“I didn’t know they’d converted any buildings down here. It’s nice.” Carter admired the crown molding that dated back to when the building used to be the office portion of a textile factory.
“You and everyone else.” Rock chuckled and held the elevator doors open for Carter to enter. “The building is still half empty. Not too many people want to live in this area.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Not for me. But the units are too expensive for the twenty-somethings, the area too undeveloped for families, and it’s too low class for the older crowd.”
“Sounds perfect for you then.”
“Completely.”
Carter’s assessment was said without derision and Rock didn’t want to acknowledge the warmth that spread from his chest. It was no secret he didn’t care for people or social situations, but most couldn’t seem to accept that as okay. Way too many people, including his family, looked at his preference for solitude as a character flaw.
What would they think of his liking men? Of bringing one back to his place to kiss? Touch? Possibly sleep with? He unlocked his door and shoved those thoughts from his mind. It didn’t matter what anyone thought but himself. Tyler had been right about that.
Carter stepped into the open space of his loft and let out a low whistle. “This is nice.” He swiveled his head to take in everything. The surprise didn’t need to be spoken. It was clear on his face.
The three-bedroom loft was quadruple the size of the units on the lower floors, with a twenty-foot open ceiling and large windows along the two exterior walls. The exposed brick gave the space a warehouse feel that meshed with the muted gray-and-blue color scheme he’d chosen.
The kitchen was separated from the living space by a marble-topped peninsula bar, and the high-end appliances blended with the simple lines of the furniture positioned around a gas fireplace with a flat-screen TV mounted above it. He didn’t go for clutter, but he had selected original artwork from local artist for his walls. The end result fit him perfectly, but it always seemed to surprise his guests.
“Thanks,” Rock said. He didn’t usually care what people thought. Yet Carter’s opinion mattered more than he wanted to admit. “Can I take your coat?” He hung their coats on the hooks mounted on the wall before he sat on the bench under them and took off his boots. He tucked them neatly beneath the bench next to his running shoes before he stood to find Carter, his boots removed and neatly placed by the wall, watching him. “What?” The urge to run a hand over his scalp was quelled by his refusal to appear that uncertain. Carter had already seen more of his insecurities than he was comfortable with.
“You look nice.” His voiced had lowered, his gaze scanning down Rock before returning to his face. “That color’s good on you. It makes your eyes darker.”
Well…dang. What did a guy say to that? The compliment stroked the vanity he’d trashed long before his scar had stomped it down, flushing him with a pleasure that made his tongue thick. He’d never dressed to please anyone until Carter. He’d taken care in selecting the navy silk V-neck sweater he’d bought online. It was the first time he’d worn it.
“Thanks,” he managed to say once again before he darted toward the safety of the kitchen. Telling Carter he looked amazing seemed too much like an obligatory reply, even though he would’ve meant it.
He busied himself adding water to the coffeepot and getting the beans out. He focused on the task with the hope that his growing erection would go down before Carter noticed. Not that there was much chance of that. He’d been half-hard since he’d walked up to the movie theater.
“You’re really making coffee?”
Rock whipped around, a spray of beans flying out of the open bag to pelt Carter in the chest and scatter across the kitchen.
“Hey.” Carter jumped back, hands flying up to block some of the beans before he laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
Rock had been so engrossed in keeping his hands steady and willing his dick under control, he hadn’t heard Carter approach. “Shit.” He set the bag on the counter as the heat ran up his neck. “I…” His sigh was deep and heavy before he laughed. He’d blushed more in the last few weeks than he’d had in the past twelve years. Carter was going to sprint from the building if he didn’t get his act together. “I’m a little nervous. Sorry.”
“And this is worse than me choking on my water and spilling it all over the table at the diner?” Carter waved his hand at the array of black beans across the hardwood. “Not hardly. I’m just as nervous as you are.”
“Really?” Rock shook his head and leaned against the counter. “I know why I’m nervous, but why are you?”
Carter took a step back and propped himself on the opposite counter. The black pullover sweater tightened across his chest when he reached back to grip the marble edge. Rock took a long, slow glance at the full hotness of the man before him. What little ground he’d gained in controlling his dick was lost in that one look.
“This is a first for me too, you know?”
He jerked his attention away from the bulge at Carter’s crotch that said the exact same thing Rock’s did. “What?” He shook his head and refused to blush when he noted the arch of Carter’s brow. The man knew exactly what he’d been staring at. “What’s a first?”
“This date.” Carter’s voice had gone softer, and Rock tilted his head to catch the rest. “Well, not exactly a first. I was nineteen and still in college when I had my last real date. That was before I became…an escort.” He didn’t look down. Instead, he stared at Rock, almost daring him to judge him. Like he could.
“So I don’t have to worry about how I’m stacking up against the competition?” He was only half-joking.
Carter pushed away from the counter. “Even if there was any, you’d have nothing to worry about.” He stepped over the mess on the floor to close the distance between them, stopping when he was a hand-span away.
“No?” Breathing was becoming hard for Rock, but he took a deep inhale and found the scent of Carter’s cologne instead of the heavy fragrance of the coffee beans. Right then he stopped worrying about how he compared to the faceless men in Carter’s life—past and present. The heat-filled desire that shone in the blue of Carter’s eyes told him everything he needed to know.
Carter took another step forward, and Rock automatically widened his stance, allowing Carter between his legs as if it was something he did all the time. Carter laid a hand on Rock’s chest and the touch had his breath hitching, his muscles jumping. Outside of that first hotel room night, this was the closest they’d been. Unhindered by coats and suit jackets, the definition of Carter’s palm was like an imprint on his chest.
“Not a bit,” Carter said. The husky vibration was another call to Rock’s hunger.
The need to touch the man, to feel him, had Rock’s lingering doubts and reservations drifting away. He lifted his hands t
o run them up the hard length of Carter’s sides, from waist to ribs and back down. The freedom to simply touch and explore left him dizzy. The sweater was soft over the muscle that Rock had guessed at and wanted to see, soon.
“That’s good to know,” Rock whispered, too engrossed in the feel of Carter’s body beneath his palms to worry about the breathiness of his voice. He brought his hands over Carter’s abdomen, mentally mapping each nuance as he rubbed them upward over the small ridges of definition.
Carter ran his hand over Rock’s shoulder and took the last step that brought their groins together. Rock eyelids dropped closed as the longing rushed outward from that contact point. The hard press of Carter’s erection against his was about the best fucking thing he’d ever experienced. As good as the parking lot kiss but open-ended with a promise of what was coming.
He fisted the material of Carter’s sweater and opened his eyes to find his sizzling desire mirrored back at him. He wet his dry lips and asked for what he wanted. “Can I take this off?” He tugged on the sweater, and Carter lifted his arms as his answer.
It felt like the best present. His need was powerful enough that he could tackle the man, rip his clothes off and fuck him over the counter, but he’d waited years for this moment. Savoring was better.
He skimmed his fingers down to find the hem of Carter’s sweater. The hard surface of his belt was cool under his touch before he found the heat of his skin. He sucked in a jagged breath as he flattened his palms over the warmth of Carter’s abs. He followed the dip and release of Carter’s inhale with his eyes and hands before he slowly rubbed his palms upward.
The smoothness of Carter’s skin allowed every muscle to be felt before it was revealed. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he inched the sweater upward, over Carter’s stomach, past his hard nipples that skimmed like pebbles under his palms and pulled a hiss from the man. He glanced up and almost repeated the sound when Carter rolled his hips, rocking their erections together.
“Fuck,” Rock said on an exhale.
